


A Mutual Understanding

by townshend



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:15:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/townshend/pseuds/townshend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire knows that Leon's the only one who can really help her brother now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mutual Understanding

In Chris' line of work, he met a lot of people. People who'd been scarred by the activity of bioterrorism, people who wanted to fight, people in the BSAA, even politicians and lobbyists and other sorts of official people.

There were always, though, people who stood out in his mind the most. People like Sheva, who'd come out of the tragedy of her parents death in some biological accident by bettering herself and fighting for the cause. People like Josh, who'd fought to save the two regardless of the horror that was ripping through his country. People like Jill, who'd only gotten stronger since that night in July of 1998.

People like Leon S. Kennedy, the man who'd gone through Raccoon City, who'd protected Claire, who'd saved the President's daughter, who'd looked at Chris and always, _always_ understood what he was going through.

When Chris came back from Africa, he'd spent long days in his apartment, staring out windows, staring at walls, counting the dots on his ceilings. He wasn't doing much of anything constructive -- he would make food because he knew he was supposed to, and when the knife slipped when he was cutting meat and sliced his finger open he would stare down at the torn flesh with an uncertain expression before washing and bandaging his hand, throwing away the meal he'd started that he probably wouldn't have eaten anyway.

Times like these, Leon was the last person on his mind, although if you asked Claire Redfield, there wasn't much of _anything_ on Chris' mind at all.

She came by Chris' apartment as often as her work would allow (too often she was out of town, state, _country_ ) to check on him, and he would look up at her, smile, talk (minimally), but she knew Chris too well not to notice that something was wrong. It was after a particularly dead visit that she, frustrated, upset, confused, pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open, hitting her address book button and scrolling down to "L". The number she dialed was the first one on the list.

"This is Kennedy," the man answered. Claire was almost impressed -- he'd answered right on the second ring, and he sounded concentrated, to-the-point. It almost gave her some hope. If anyone could understand Chris, it would be Leon, wouldn't it? They'd always seemed to have gotten along in the past.

"Leon," she said, by way of greeting, her face breaking into a small smile as she crossed the street to the adjacent parking lot, finding her keys in her pocket. "Hi."

"Claire." His voice softened considerably. "Hey. Sorry, I didn't check the caller ID, just assumed it was work."

"It's okay." Claire unlocked her car via remote, sliding into the driver's seat and setting her purse on the passenger's side. "Hey... have you heard from Chris?"

"Your brother?" Leon asked, clarifying. He didn't really need to -- Claire didn't answer, but he continued, knowing he was right. "I heard he got back from his mission, but not from him. Haven't had time to read the report yet, though."

"I don't even know if he's submitted one," Claire answered, shrugging to herself as she started her car. She wasn't going to drive on the phone out of personal preference, but it would be nice to get some cool air. It was so hot outside. She hesitated for a moment, having no idea how to breach the subject. To her relief, though, Leon did it for him -- his voice was sounding softer than even before, and it made Claire's heart feel warm.   
"How is he?" he asked. "I've gotten wind that it wasn't exactly a normal mission."

"Doesn't seem that way," she answered, quietly. "He won't really talk about it." She sighed, a little too loudly, into the phone. "I was thinking maybe he needed... you know, a friend to talk to... someone who would listen and know what he's going through..."

There was a pause, but it wasn't completely silent -- Claire could hear a rustling of papers on the other end followed by a few short, sharp typing noises.

"I have some time this weekend," Leon noted. "Is he still living in the same place?"

"Yeah." Claire smiled. "Thank you. So much."

"It's fine. He was there for me, after Spain, so..." It was Leon's turn to sigh, and Claire could picture him reclining in his chair, eyes closed, hair falling back. "Nobody should have to go it alone."

"Yeah." Claire glanced down at the time on her stereo panel. "Uhg, I have to get going. I'll talk to you later?"

"Sure." Another pause. "I'll be up there this weekend. Maybe I'll drop by and see you too."

"I'd like that. I'll be here on Sunday. Maybe we'll all have dinner."

"Maybe so. See you then." Leon hung up the phone, sighing. Claire knew him a little too well -- he was sitting, reclined in his chair, staring towards his desk blankly, where his laptop sat, open now to his day calendar. He leaned forward, setting his cell phone back down, and moved over to the weekend, selecting Saturday and Sunday and typing, quickly, "Redfields". That was enough of a reminder for him.

For Chris, the week dragged on slowly. He started his report on Kijuju no less than five times -- realizing they were getting more and more personal and emotional with each draft and eventually scrapping the whole lot. Time would help, he told himself, but time wasn't something he had a lot of. He needed to get back to work. He needed to--

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Chris jumped, his gaze instantly shooting towards it. His heart pounded in his chest, and he sighed, trying to calm himself down. God, he felt ridiculous. It was over, now, wasn't it? So why was he so on edge?

It didn't take him long to get to the door -- Chris hated now more than ever the fact that he didn't have a peephole installed at this apartment and vowed to fix that even if it meant he had to take a drill to the door himself -- and unlocked it, opening it a few feet.

Leon Kennedy was on his doorstep.

Chris felt -- and looked -- surprised. Leon watched his expressions carefully, noting Chris' tired-looking face and general dishevelled appearance. For a long time, neither of them said anything. Finally, realizing Chris was probably going to just stand there in a state of shock forever, Leon said, "Wow, kind of thought you'd let me inside by now."

"Oh-- god-- sorry." Chris stepped back, opening the door further, and Leon stepped past him, into the apartment itself. For a man going through what Claire had descibed earlier that day as "some sort of breakdown", the place looked pretty damn clean. Chris closed the door after him, locking it. "I uh, didn't expect to see you."

"I was in the neighborhood," Leon answered, standing in the entranceway, peering into the living room. "Back from Africa, I see."

"Yeah, I was only there about three days," Chris murmured. He crossed past Leon, into the living room. "Come on inside. I'll get you a beer."

Leon watched Chris carefully as he strode in -- every move, facial expression, gesture that the man made was valuable in assessing his state of mind. In training to become a federal agent, Leon had learned these skills -- skills that were normally used in negotiations with terrorists and hostiles. They were useful in a lot of other places.

At Chris' request, Leon sat on the couch, glancing towards Chris' TV -- it was showing an episode of 'The Jeffersons' on mute, and Leon watched it with a small smile on his face. He wasn't sure what TV programming he would choose for a breakdown, but somehow he didn't think this would be it. Chris didn't seem to notice his amusement -- he moved into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of Coors, bringing them out to the living room and handing one to Leon.

Chris sat on the couch -- a little closer than he would have, if the two weren't alone. Already, it made Leon feel a little more relieved.

"Did Claire send you?" he asked, finally, cracking open his beer and taking a drink. Leon didn't, just glancing down at his, rolling it in his hands.

"Well," he reasoned, "it's not like you called me and asked me to come up."

Chris sighed, shaking his head. "I didn't want..." He paused, waiting for the right words. They didn't really come. "It's not like I was going to call you and tell you I'm screwed up and need you to come right away."

Leon thought about making a joke on that one -- he could already hear it in his head -- but he decided to refrain. Chris obviously needed him to be a little stronger than that.

"Claire told you for me," he finally confirmed, and Chris sighed.

"What a surprise," he murmured. "Sometimes I wonder if she..." He paused, hedging on the words, but Leon already knew where he was headed with that.

"I don't think she does," he said, quickly. "And if she does, well, she must not mind too badly."

"I guess not." Chris didn't smile, like Leon had expected. Frowning, Leon turned, slightly, watching Chris almost intensely.

"Hey," he said, slowly, licking his lips to wet his mouth. He felt... distant, nervous, like there was a wall built up and he wasn't sure that he would be able to knock it down. "You..."

Leon wanted to say something, wanted to ask if he was okay, wanted to ask about the mission, to ask if he needed to say something about it, but he didn't. He couldn't. Even when Chris had come to Leon's place after he'd been in his mini-funk about Spain, there had never been words -- Chris had walked in, concern painted all over his face, a copy of Leon's report in hand, and Leon had grabbed him and held him and Chris had kissed him and--

It wasn't happening this way this time, and Leon had no idea what to do. How would Chris even react, if Leon tried to kiss him?

"I what?" Chris asked, taking another drink, and Leon had his beer set down in five seconds, taking Chris' in his hand and putting it on the coffee table. "Hey, what are you--"

"Listen," Leon said, quickly, cutting him off. "Let me--" But he stalled for words, again, and when he moved the wet his lips a second time, he found Chris' were on them already.

There wasn't anything to say -- Leon curled his arms around Chris' neck as the two sunk into the couch, hoping to god he was doing something to help (or Claire would have his head for it), hoping he could be the outlet into which Chris could pour all his fear, anger, aggression, insecurity, anxiety, depression.

When Chris came up for air, he murmured, finally, "It wasn't good."

"I could tell," Leon whispered, his lips only moments away from Chris'. He could feel the heat coming off the other man's face. "You... you've never kissed me like that before."

Chris looked surprised, momentarily thrown off-guard, and Leon smirked, just a little, using the grasp he had around Chris' neck to his advantage by pulling the man down closer. "It's okay," he breathed, between kisses, "if you can't," kiss, "talk about it."

But Chris didn't answer -- he didn't look like he was even interested in answering. Instead, he pulled Leon in tighter, sinking into the man, and Leon let Chris just relax into him and took over, kissing, touching, doing whatever he could to take Chris' mind off the things he'd just been through. This sort of dynamic -- it wasn't normal for them, but they slipped into it easily, like a pair of new shoes that felt like they were made just for you -- easy to adjust to and comfortable to walk in.

When Leon held Chris down, for a moment Chris looked up and, when their eyes met, he could see the horror Chris was seeing, too -- a mirror of the images he'd seen in Spain. The passion stalled for only a moment -- Chris whispered, "God, don't stop, not now, I _need_ this," and Leon was quick to push against Chris, to take care of him, to be anything Chris needed him to be.


End file.
